downhill track

I’m a Family Feud fan.  Steve Harvey is the best.  But I’m uneasy as the first question is asked.   It often begins, “We asked a hundred women…”  Whatever the rest of the question is, it often leaves an opening for an answer regarding a body part or sexual function.  The audience is wide open for the “cutesy” answers.  They roar at something like this:  “We asked a hundred women what they take to bed with them when they are feeling romantic.”  Answer: Handcuffs, whip …   Apparently that is what hooks us.  It is not what hooks me, but I put up with it in order to watch Steve, the Master of facial expressions.

One woman once answered a question with a “vulgar” term.  She was embarrassed as she saw that answer wasn’t there.  She said something like this:  “I thought it would be there.”  Yes, first answer expected is likely to be edgy if not vulgar.

Modest, Teasing, Titilating, Edgy, Suggestive, Bold, Inviting, Vulgar, Let It All Hang Out. Definitely a downward slope with morals; but upward with the audience who provide the money.

The “modest” stage was fairly common up to the fifties.  A girl could still get a guy even though she was modest.  But there were some movies and movement into the teasing through edgy stages.  That became old hat, move was on to go further.  Come on, Marilyn.  Marilyn Monroe and her blowing skirt.  Not enough.  Need more shock value.  So more downward slope.  Britney, Beyonce, Kardashians, Mylie?  This crew make Marilyn look modest.  You get the picture.

Where’s the mystery?  Where is the challenge.  In every stage women set themselves up to be a pushover.  Men get the picture, so their behavior “fits” what the women set up.  Scream if you like, Women, but you know you are the bait, and you know what you are willing to pay.  True, the price got too high!  You demanded no respect, you got no respect.

And Men, you are fools who go for this bait!  You may face it down the road.  You know:  “He raped me.” “No, it was consensual.”  I dare say many men in prison think “I’m not really like that; I just lost control for a minute.”  But you pay with some years.

No mystery, no challenge.  No bother with names in a black book, just a tally sheet on the calendar!

God’s plan for sex for love’s sake, for marriage’s sake, for family’s sake, for honor’s sake!  Far too passe!

So men turn to men, women turn to women, both turn to children.  No danger of pregnancy.  Oops, there are still men/women combinations.  Must legalize ridding that problem.  Abortion is solution.

Sex became perverted in ways that would cause Caligula to blush.

Sadly, our eleven-year-old girls are thrown into “Bold and Inviting” before they even know they are using bait.

Sadly there seem to be no human boundaries set.  Prostitution, one night stands, infidelity, homosexual activity – all winked at.  Snickered at.

But God set boundaries. He will not wink at such sin.  We will reap the seeds of perversion – perhaps by rape, human trafficking, child abuse, abortion, disease, broken hearts.


Reckless sexual practices in any culture do great harm to children both as abortion (before birth) and child abuse (after birth).

Tagged Molech because Molech is the pagan god associated with child sacrifice and “Ashtoreth was his consort, and ritual prostitution was considered an important form of  worship.”

The Slippery Slope of Sin:  James 1:15, NIV: “Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.”


Image: Unsplash

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…. One side sits in stony silence as the other side whoops for joy.  The silence is momentary, then a loud angry roar erupts.  The crowd is in mayhem but I don’t really care.  The ref made a mistake, but the mistake was in favor of my team.  We won!

….  The ref called it!  He called it!  It’s ours!  We won!  There’s grousing from the other team.  Their coach strides forward.  There is a gathering on the field.  The announcer warns, “The call might not stand.  There will be an automatic review.”  Time slows down.  What will the video show?  I’m yelling in protest.  I could see what the ref did not; I know what the video will show.  I don’t like it.

My team could get by with lots more before cameras in every hand and videos in every stand at every football game in the land.

Half want a review; half do not.  Will the call stand?

Why such fear of another “Roe vs Wade” situation being brought to the Supreme Court?  Perhaps the favored side knows a mistake was made.  They scream “No Review.”  What chance another team of refs will make the same call?

Same Document.   “We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are LifeLiberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness….”

At what age is a “man” created?  When does he attain the right to life?  What does a sonogram show?  Sure looks like a baby – a “man” with a right to life …..


Thanks Pixabay for the image.

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Engraving From 1873 Featuring Ancient God, Moloch And A Child Sacrifice.

Engraving From 1873 Featuring Ancient God, Moloch And A Child Sacrifice.

Life was hard for Talak.  The fields did not produce enough harvest; he had too many mouths to feed; he was not as strong as he used to be; he could not provide little tidbits of luxury for his wife to make her happy.  He made a decision; he would appeal to Molech.

His wife cringed in compliance as Talak chose which child to take to Molech.  A hard decision.  Perhaps Molech would be satisfied with Chela.  She was smallest.  More pliable.  Less spirited.  Had a disfigured arm.  Slower to comprehend her father’s reason for taking her.  But would Molech approve?  Perhaps Molech would take Chela and still demand another.  Talak’s brother had had to give three children to the fire before his life became any better.

The neighbors agreed that Talak needed to appease the gods.  So Talak took Chela.  They understood.  So they dropped their eyes and turned away.  Some realizing they would chose to do the same thing in like circumstances.

And God turned his face from them.  Their civilizations were trampled by vicious horsemen from afar.

Many years later in a land across the waters, decisions had to be made.  Which child lives?  Which child dies?  Do I have enough income for another mouth to feed?  Does it fit into my life’s goals?  Will the community think ill of me if they know I’m pregnant?  Will he marry me?  How can I continue my education?  Will it be healthy?  Will my insurance pay?  Will Planned Parenthood help me?

Yes, there was help available a loving but stern assistant assured Della.

So here she lies, on a cold sterile counter in a cold sterile room being “arranged” in a cold sterile manner, awaiting the arrival of the doctor who would remove this fetus from her.  Della’s mind roams and a tear runs down her check.  Is it a boy or a girl?  Would it have red hair like hers?  What’s a fetus?  Isn’t it a baby?

Della is assured that the pain will only be minor and last only a little while.  The needle is inserted and the solution does the job.  The dead blob is removed.  Years later Della’s mind roams and a tear runs down her check.  Was it a boy or a girl?  Would it have had red hair like hers?  She knew it was a baby.  Her baby.  It would be giving her hugs at night instead of unspoken memories.

“Ah, but no problem,” says the community, “we signed the papers that made it legal.”

God turned his face from them.  And the storms came, the snow fell, the flood waters rose high, the fires burned, disease was rampant, intruders came into the land, rebellion and violence were given birth.

But although God’s face was turned, his ear was open.  His words were before them.

2 Chronicles 7:14 “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will heal their land.”


Image from iStock

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Kind of like the road in Mississippi

If you make it dark and make it scary

The result of a fight between GPS and me!

Land O Goshen!  ‘Twas a mess,

When I ignored the GPS!

My sister, the driver, was badly disgruntled

My confidence, I admit, became somewhat crumpled.

The woman’s voice – giving my husband advice

Kept saying”Recalculating, Recalculating” – far more than twice.

The compass said  South, so I opened my mouth

proclaiming  “That’s the direction to go.”

So on we went – though the going was slow.

But all ended well, I knew at least

That at some point we would turn East.

Four hours late, but with great elation

We arrived safely at our destination.


Hi, Friends.  I’m back home.  Had a wonderful time in Mississippi, excepting this small event.  😀  It isn’t fiction; not even exaggerated much!


Tossing in my first entry to a challenge from






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prodigal father

William Newell, born in the 1800’s, has had an impact on my life.  He was a prodigal whose father did not give up on him.   His pastor father pleaded his cause to   Dr. R A Torrey to allow William to enroll at Moody Bible Institute. Dr. Torrey pointed out that MBI was a school not a reformatory, but after laying out some rigid restrictions he took William as a project and did finally see great gains in the young man’s life.

Included in the demands made on William was that he check into Dr. Torrey’s office daily.  Perhaps it was only to say hello but it illustrates to me the importance of one’s being accountable to some authority who was interested enough in them to give them a part of their day every day.

It worked.  William became a Christian, completed his education and even returned to become a part of the faculty at MBI.

William decided to put his testimony in poem form which was immediately set to music; that is the form in which it reached me. After listening three times through on You Tube, my heart is stirred by the Holy Spirit, who directed the writing of “At Calvary” about 120 years ago—a song whose words echo pathos and victory through the years. “Mercy there was great, and grace was free; pardon there was multiplied to me. There my burdened soul found liberty, At Calvary.”

A wonderful story of God’s promise to “work all things together for good,” I wonder if William and his father have been able to rejoice in this victory of a father who endured much and did not give up in obtaining help for his prodigal.  And also the man who willingly invited him to be a part of his day.  Imagine what it would be for a “prodigal” student to be invited to come by the principal’s office every day even when he was good!

A few years days ago, I stopped by an assisted living place and met a lady who invited me in for a chat. Her husband was gone at the time – gone to the jail to see about their beloved grandson who was walking the way of the prodigal. Wish I had had this story to tell her. 

(I compiled this biological information from several online sources.)


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For collection letters gives

Only fake relief


I’m not sure if I am following all the right procedure since this is my first haiku entry for the following challenger who provided the picture:

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So many have expressed about my age  since I appear so much younger, I thought I might ought to go into a bit of detail about how I know for sure I am eighty-five.  I’m doing new math to prove to you that I keep up with the times.


I was eighty in 2014 (that’s because I born in 1934) so how old am I this year (after birthday has passed of course, since 2019’s birthday has occurred, this example I am giving is  the right way to figure my present age – if it had not yet occurred it would not be right), but back to 80 in 2014, my birthday has happened this year so how old am I now (and of course, I will be this number of years for the remainder of 2019, we will not bother with fractions at this point). In fact I will be this number of years up to my birthday in January, 2020. That is if you round figure to the lowest even year. No, I don’t mean even year like odd/even – I mean like the total of years I have lived for the complete rotation of the earth around the sun, or is it the sun around the earth? Which is right? That’s modern science; I haven’t studied that out too well. Now back to our math question. If I was eighty in 2014, sorry that should if I “were” eighty, no that’s not the right mood, maybe not mood, but when stating something that might not be, which is sometimes signaled by the word “if”, you are to use “were” not “was” – I think it is the same in modern grammar?  At least we will assume it is the same, so back to my question. If I were eighty years old at my birthday anniversary on January 24th in 2014, how old will/would I—no, how old am I now. No, how old was I on January 24, which happened to be last Thursday, in this our present year, 2019. Shall I repeat the question?

Oh, you understand the question. Good, let’s go on to how to work out the solution. Write down 8 x’s, each x will represent the number 10 (which is the first numeral that contains two digits—that is if you do not consider negative numbers). You can write these x’s in either a horizontal or vertical direction – you might want to clump them together like a ball or put them in a circle, or you might want to make an imaginary car with an x used to represent each focal point on the car. Just anyway will do. Now make a row of 10 slashes, draw a line underneath to show that they represent the next set of ten (which by the way, I will need when I reach ninety when I will change them to another x). But I am not really ninety yet so you will need to mark off a slash for each year since 2014 – so 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019 – there you are five slashes left.

Put those with your eight x’s, the one’s you used to draw the car. Hold those eight x’s in your head, no just imagine them, put the five slashes with them, how many is that?

Yes, you can use on one hand that five fingers  to represent the slashes if you want to. Maybe that is better than the slashes. Why not just have eight buddies come up and each of you will hold up ten fingers, we need five more buddies one finger each. Now let’s count the fingers. Why fingers? Because they will each represent one year, that’s a full rotation of the earth around the sun…


This is not fiction; it is textbook kind of writing, so I guess that makes it non-fiction. 😀

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bd lunch

So yesterday has been here and now is today.  I find I’m only one day older than I was yesterday, even though I had to add a year.  Does that seem right?  At least it explains how the years roll on and birth-dates keep happening one day every year.  And the more, the better.

So the shouting is over, what’s left of my yesterday?

  1.  A delicious large container of my favorite chicken salad.

  2.  A vase of flowers sitting on my table.

  3.  An extra two pounds showing up on the bathroom scales; I have to remember that is a sign of a healthy body.  If food goes in the mouth, it is used by the body even if placed in storage!

  4.  Memory of little voices on the phone singing “Happy Birthday, dear Grandma…”

  5.  A cash card for Boom-a-Rang, hamburgers half price, along with a date with my  friend, Linda, for Monday, 11:45.

  6.  Well wishes from my two sons, and from my granddaughter who lives far away,   and I sigh as I miss my mom who would have called if Heaven had land phones.

  7.  A slew of Happy Birthdays arriving by modern tech (FB and blogosphere) with some snail-mail cards.

  8.   A challenge left by a Blogger friend.

  9.   An offer for a go-out dinner from my husband whom I have loved long enough to say,  “Thanks, but I don’t want to.”  So it was replaced with cheese and crackers. 😀

  10. An assignment from the Lord regarding a series of blogs called “Love Seed.”  Hope you will watch for it.

Picture of Karen, my sister, who took me out to lunch at the Chinese Buffet.  Oh, yes, the other one is me.  I’m the young blond —- or else, I’m not.  😀

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Oneta 84

The years have turned to decades;

The decades, to scores.

Age can bind the body

But still love’s spirit soars.

I’ve loved Him since I was but a child.

He’s my friend when the storms are wild.

When forsaken by others, He’s at my side.

When troubled by choices, He’s been my guide.

In sorrow, He’s my comfort;

In panic, He’s my calm;

In confusion, He’s my anchor;

In illness, He’s my balm.

He makes me holy, pays my debt

Forgives my sins, and better yet –

I’ve been declared righteous because of His blood

He fights my battles, and gives me His love.

He’s my God, my Savior,

my Life, Light, and Love!

Nay! I’ll not mourn the passing years

that lead me to Him above.


Celebrating my birthday again with this testimony of my life with Jesus.  I wrote it several years ago.   Posted three years ago.  But it is still my Birthday Blessing.

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Oneta 84

The joy of 84 years and 362 days!  You ask me the ways?  I’ll tell you.

  1.  A clothes closet packed full with clothes – none new.  But oh, the possibilities of a new combination.  I found one today and I like it.  Old clothes, new combination = new outfit.  Why shouldn’t that count?  I does if you are 84 years and 362 days old!

  2. Lunch date with friend of 17 years or so.  So intelligent; so lovely; so personable; so young (only 71); so influential, and she still likes me!  We have had one date a year now for many years.  We go dutch.

  3. Or at least we always have.  Today she insisted because of my birthday she would pay, so I gave in.  When the waitress brought the ticket, she insisted we look immediately and guess what?  No ticket.  The couple in the next booth had paid our ticket.  We didn’t know them; she didn’t know them; they left before we knew they paid so we still didn’t know them.  She said she guessed they had heard Kathleen say she would pay because it was my birthday.  Anyway, I got two birthday presents – Kathleen, who insisted on paying, and the couple I don’t know!  One payer but gift from two.

  4. Part of our conversation regarded getting old (even though I’m not even 85 yet).  I tell you, Kiddies (those below 84 yrs, 362 days old), it is the most wonderful thing to do and be – at least for me in Oklahoma.  You remember me talking about the man who started my car for me when it died while I was getting gas.  That’s one example.  Men and ladies open the doors.  Loading one’s trunk in the Walmart parking lot, someone will offer to help.  Even a Walmart employee told me to look for him to help when I leave the store.  If I drop my cane, folks have to be careful not to bump one another’s heads, they so quickly respond to picking it up for me.

  5. And if anyone doesn’t notice, it doesn’t bother a whit for me to say I need help.  I’m standing on the curb, feeling unbalanced to step up or step down, no bother for me to ask a passer-by, “Would you hold my hand while I step up or step down.”  Why should it bother me.  They beam at my request and I’ve made another friend even if only for a short time.

  6. I got in my own car, drove my own self home, parked in my own garage, walked into my own kitchen, straight on to my own bed, did my own nap time. Required no help.

  7. And my dreams are full of lovely talented people.  They don’t even have to be alive anymore.  Example: a dream from a couple nights ago.  I dreamed I was at some function where two of the most terrific pianists were to perform.  (One was a lady who is now performing in heaven; the other is a man who I hope will read this blog.)  They were dependent on me to provide a piano.  I just happened to have one of those roll-up keyboards advertised on Facebook.  I gave it to them.  My dream ended while I was looking for scotch tape so they could tape the keyboard on the wall.

  8. The immediate future looks bright.  Left overs in the ‘frig.  Husband is in the den; I’ll go have a few hours with him.  And I still have some time to spend with you.

  9. Looks like my chances are pretty good to get old – 85 in two days.  Maybe I’ll find when it gets here that I’m still not old.  At least that’s the way it has been for the last twenty years or so.

  10. Remember I must have a sensible number to end with, who ever heard of a list of nine?  So this makes ten.  I simply have to say, “Thank you, Jesus. Life just better and better with you in it.”


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